


In search of understanding

by Kairi_of_Knives



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: ByHardt week 2020, Claude von Riegan Being Claude von Riegan, Eventual Romance, F/M, Female My Unit | Byleth, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, First Impressions, Fluff, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24602392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kairi_of_Knives/pseuds/Kairi_of_Knives
Summary: As for Linhardt, he found himself interested in more things every day. The swing of Petra's lance, Dorothea's varying degrees of bravado and insecurity, Leonie's ever strange fascination with Jeralt Eisner. Mostly, he still found himself orbiting around the professor. In less typical ways, though. He asked the occasional question in class, rather than simply sleeping through the whole thing, and even opened himself up to the possibility of reason magic no matter how detestable he found the act of taking a life.It wasn't until the night of the ball, when he found himself foolishly spouting off some nonsense about returning to the Goddess Tower for another private rendezvous that he realized how cliche and yet also fitting that meeting was. The rush of excitement when he had seen her climbing the stairs really couldn't be mistaken for anything else. Oh, he thought, as he watched the gentle moonlight paint the bemused smile on her face in a different light than normal. I'm in love with her.-x-x-x-A series of related one shots written for Byhardt Week 2020
Relationships: Linhardt von Hevring/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 5
Kudos: 43
Collections: BYHARDT WEEK 2020





	1. First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends!
> 
> So if you've read my recent works you know that I am a simp for Linhardt even when I'm not supposed to be writing about him. He's a lovely character and has such a unique voice to write in. Plus, his comedic value cannot be emphasized enough. Regardless, he is the other true love of my FE3H experience right alongside Yuri. Thus, for Byhardt week I have written drabbles about him. I will likely miss some days since I'm in the middle of my hospital rotation. But I wanted to do SOMETHING at least. Also since Claude is my favorite house leader and the Golden Deer are my babies overall, this takes place in their route.
> 
> Day 1's theme was First Impressions so here, have a taste of how I imagined Linhardt coming to join the Golden Deer. Enjoy!

Sleep was an elusive mistress at times. It always had been for her. Resting out amid the roughage with a rowdy troop of mercenaries had taught her early to rouse at the slightest noise. It was a hard habit to break even now when she slept in a too soft bed in the dorms with the students of the Officer's Academy. When her paranoia kept her conscious, the best thing for it was to patrol the grounds. Just a short walk. To clear her head and rid her of any suspicions of danger.

Besides, Garreg Mach was a lovely place. Fitting that a monastery was a place that brought her peace. It was a tad ridiculous to waltz around in a thin nightgown with her sword at her side, but Byleth highly doubted anyone could scorn her for it. She also wouldn't care much if they did. It wasn't usually to run into someone roaming the grounds this late. Bernadette often enjoyed the rare chance at solitude in the mess hall. Marianne was prone to guilt induced sleeplessness. Dimitri, poor thing, often trained away nightmares in the Knights Hall. Most frequently, she came across Linhardt pouring over books in the library. It wasn't strange per se to see him sitting out on the dock after midnight.

The stifled sobs, however, were alarming.

For a moment, Byleth hesitated. Linhardt wasn't her student technically. When asked which House she wanted to teach, she had chosen Claude and the Golden Deer, if only because they seemed to have lower expectations than the other Houses. She didn't regret that choice. They were wonderful kids. Full of heart and raw potential untapped by their previous lives. Bringing them out into their would be more of a challenge than for the Eagles or Lions students, but Byleth felt it was a worthy cause. Still, even if the other Houses were not "hers", she did like many of them. She still cared. That was enough of a reason to approach Linhardt's trembling form.

Byleth made the conscious decision to not quiet her footsteps. She really did not know Linhardt well. Many men would react poorly to someone witnessing them in a moment of sorrow. While she did want to help, she didn't want to upset him more or keep him from venting. His head lifted from the cradle of his arms at her approach, glistening blue eyes visibly red in the light from her lantern. The ribbon that held his hair back during the day was gone, green tresses sticking to his wet cheeks miserably. "Professor," he greeted, shakily.

"May I sit, Linhardt?"

Linhardt regarded her for a moment, shrewd gaze likely assessing her intent with such a question. That intellect of his was always such a delight, if perhaps a shock given his lazy demeanor. Finally, he let out a sigh and nodded, scooting over to give her space. Byleth slipped off her boots, letting her feet dangle over the edge, just brushing the still water of the fishing pond. She could admit that she had a certain affection for this place. It was an excellent spot to sit and think...or not to think at all.

Her presence did not staunch the flow of his tears to her surprise. It was quite the display of trust, one she did not wish to abuse. Placing the lantern down a bit behind them, Byleth gently laid a hand against the boy's back, rubbing it in sympathy. Such bold displays of emotion had always been beyond her. Seeing him process those feelings so freely made her jealous but also relieved. People like her, who viciously protected their heart and did not speak of vulnerable topics easily, were hard to support. Linhardt had no such qualms. He leaned heavily into her, resting his head thankfully on her shoulder as he wept.

Linhardt's cries eventually tapered off, leaving a companionable silence. The sound of the water brushing against the dock and his occasional sniffles warred in her mind; one was calming, the other gripped her heart with icy fingers. Byleth ran her fingers through his slightly knotted hair for a while before he finally whispered so low she almost couldn't hear it.

"I'm not cut out of this."

"For what?" she wondered, resting her head against the crown of his. The position must have been awkward. He was taller than her after all. She never heard a complaint though.

"Fighting. Killing. Warfare. All of it. I hate it." Linhardt sniffled, rubbing at his face. "I hate it so much."

Ah. Byleth had heard that the Black Eagles were assigned their first live combat mission this month. Bandits attacking a group of merchants, if she remembered correctly. Linhardt practiced white magic primarily. As she understood, he was quite good at it. Yet, as was the case with Marianne, being a healer did not exclude one from the fighting. It actually brought you closer to the core of it. Byleth was suddenly grateful that Linhardt hadn't been a part of her class this month. Killing Lord Lonato had been hard even for her.

"Battle is often a trade. Spare one life, take another."

Linhardt lurched away from her, glare burning into her in the low lighting. "Am I supposed to be content with that? Because they were bandits they deserved to die? Ridiculous. They were _human_ , Professor. They had lives, family, friends...just like any of us. To think that any one person's life has more value than another is foolish."

More tears were gathering in his eyes. Byleth sighed, keeping her eyes on his. "I never said it was right. Nor fair. Those decisions aren't ours to make. But if you were given the choice between letting a friend die and letting a stranger who sought to harm you die, I believe you can make that choice."

Blue eyes narrowed at her, but he didn't argue. His frustration was not one she could relate to. She had never been given the luxury of worrying about whether it was ethical to take another life. It was that or die for her. Had always been. Now, it was kill or let these students, her students, die. That was just as easy of a decision for her. Not really a choice at all.

"I'm glad that people like you exist, Linhardt," she admitted. Linhardt's eyes widened at her confession. She allowed herself a small smile. "There are many like me, who do not think twice before killing if there is reason to. Far fewer people value their foes as much as their friends. If more people had that mindset, I'm sure this world would be much better."

Byleth turned back towards the pond, giving him leave of her critical gaze. She could feel him staring at her still. She didn't mind. At this point, it was becoming second nature to be evaluated. Claude did it. As did Seteth, Hubert, the folk of Remire, anyone who knew the moniker she has been assigned. 

"Has it always been easy for you?" Linhardt pondered. "Killing?"

Byleth shrugged. "It had to be. I have not had the privilege of choice. Not if I wanted to see the next day. I must be skilled at it, else I would not be called the Ashen Demon."

"You know, I was curious about that." Linhardt relaxed a bit, uncurling from the tight ball he had been in since she first saw him. His tone was almost conversational, but the after tones of their heavy conversation topic still lingered. "As I've heard it, people call you that because you are lack any expression as you fight. They say you're unfeeling. But that isn't true, is it Professor?"

Blinking in surprise, Byleth noted that that was more of a statement than a question. "How did you come to that conclusion?"

Linhardt's normally apathetic affect was replaced with an almost smug expression. Like the one Hanneman wore when Byleth gave him a blood sample to play with, or when Lorenz got a question right in class. Pride? "Well it's obvious. Would a woman who felt no emotion come to the aid of three strangers? Nobles at that? Likely not. Not to mention how dedicated you have been to your position as a professor here." Directing his gaze at his lap, a smile played at Linhardt's lips. "If you were incapable of feeling anything, you wouldn't be here now either."

Byleth considered his argument. She couldn't really dispute it. Jeralt had made it a habit to preference jobs that did some level of good. They often turned down nobles who wanted them to sack their rivals in favor of poor folk who could not afford full payment. Helping people made the work fulfilling. That pleasant warmth in her chest when a mother cried and thanked them for finding her child was the same as when her students learned a new technique or worked together well during practice. It hadn't ever crossed her mind before, but maybe that was why she agreed to this so readily. 

Linhardt met her long stare with an inkling of doubt. "Was I off base?"

Byleth shook her head. "No. No one else has ever said that to me is all."

The grin on his face was so pleased, Byleth could almost forget that he had been crying just a few moments ago. "Everyone else is dull, Professor. Anyone who can't see that at least doesn't deserve your care."

The fact that they would have her care regardless need not be said. If any, that further proved he was right. Relieved by his improved mood, Byleth took the opportunity to get to know him.

"What do you like, Linhardt, if not fighting?"

Looking almost surprised that he had been asked, it took him a minute to formulate this thoughts. Once he had, they flowed. "Naps. A good book. That cats around the monastery are very good company. History, especially surrounding Crests and Crestology. Fair weather. Sweet things. Getting lost in an interesting conversation. Tons of things really."

"Is that why you came to the Officer's Academy then? To learn about Crests?"

Linhardt's expression soured. "If only. My father thought it prudent that I become educated in combat, warfare and politics. Finance too, though that is dreadfully boring. His greatest hope is that I will return to him molded into the future Minister of the Interior."

Ah. Overbearing parents. A common theme amongst the nobles it seemed. "You don't seem to keen on the idea."

"That's putting it mildly. I wholeheartedly disagree with most of my father's wishes for my life. If he had his way, I would give up any interests outside of the promotion of my House, marry some noblewoman young and produce enough heirs to pass on my Crest, and never speak to Caspar again. It's utterly unappealing, Professor."

Quite the burden to place on a 16 year old. As well as a fabulous way to earn their distrust. Jeralt had not been the most affectionate father, but he always had supported her. The more she got to know other family situations, the more she appreciated her own. "What of your wishes? If you could build the perfect life for yourself after your time here, what would it consist of?"

Humming, Linhardt laid back on the dock, legs kicking in the water idly. "Hard to say. I've no clue whether I will remain interested in Crest research for long. Also, I never really intended to make a living out of it. That would imply my findings be published and that sounds like a pain. No, I want to live a simple life studying what I find fascinating, fishing from a dock just like this one and napping the day away."

Amused, Byleth quipped, "Quite unique to long for retirement before even having a life calling."

"The idea of a dream job is beyond me, Professor. I simply do not dream of labor. I practice my craft to get better at it, not for anyone else's approval."

As good a reason as any, Byleth thought. Linhardt reminded her a lot of Hilda, the more she thought about it. Though, instead of abandoning her duties, the pinkette found some unfortunate soul to foist them onto. She wasn't sure whether they would be best friends or sworn enemies, these two. An unstoppable force and an immovable object. "You should share some of this with Professor Manuela," Byleth noted. "Our job here is to help you prepare for your life outside of this place. It would help for your teacher to know your personal goals."

"I'd rather not. She barely tolerates my fight with drowsiness as it is. I doubt she would help me pursue a life of leisure." Linhardt sat up suddenly, an excited smile on his face. "Although...that may be a limitation of being her student, not just of my own behavior."

Cocking her head to the side, Byleth failed to identify the cause of his unexpected elation. "Probably a mix of both. I imagine you have a solution in mind?"

"It's simple, isn't it? Why bother explaining myself to someone else when you already understand me perfectly? I can just transfer to your class."

"You? Join the Golden Deer?" She did know that class transfers were possible, given that the professor and student both approved. Sylvain had made the offer at least once before but Byleth had assumed it was in jest. "You're sure you'd be alright leaving the Black Eagles?"

"Oh, please. I have no attachment to being taught alongside peers from my own country. It's not like I won't see them again. Besides, I feel I would benefit quite a lot from your tutelage." Nodding to himself, mind obviously made up, Linhardt confirmed. "Yes, this sounds delightful. With your permission, I shall bring it up to Professor Manuela before lecture tomorrow morning."

Feeling coy, Byleth teased, "You'll be awake that early?"

"Of course. I likely won't sleep tonight in fact." Aware of her displeased glance, Linhardt shook it off. "Oh, don't give me that look. I'll make up for it later. The sooner we can sort this all out, the better."

It seemed there was no talking him out of it then. Not that she really minded. It had crossed her mind a few times recently that having another white mage in her class would benefit them greatly. Besides, it had been nice to talk to him like this. He was an odd bird, but one she enjoyed the company of. "Very well. I'll send the transfer paperwork in to Seteth before class. I expect you to attend my lecture, Linhardt."

Visibly pleased, Linhardt nodded eagerly. "Yes, of course. You'll have to forgive me if I fall asleep though. On that note, I'd best be off." Standing and slipping his boots back on sloppily, Linhardt bid, "Good evening, Professor. I'll see you tomorrow."

Shaking her head, Byleth wondered at how downright energetic the boy could be sometimes. Quite the interesting duality, that Linhardt. Before his footsteps fully left the dock, Byleth heard him turn and hurry back towards her.

"Oh! I almost forgot. One more thing." Byleth nodded at him encouragingly. The exuberance from a moment ago was tempered by an almost sheepish expression. Messy, loose hair swaying in the wind, Linhardt had the sweetest smile on his face as he said, "Thank you, Professor. For...well, this. All of this. Listening to me, most of all. It means a lot."

Byleth felt her chest bubble with warmth at the earnest expression of gratitude. She truly meant it when she returned, "Any time, Linhardt."


	2. Reminisce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Which is worse...being ignorant or finding out that the truth is a reality you don't want to live with?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a direct sequel to the first chapter. You know me: I love a good continuity.
> 
> Day 2: Memories/Reminisce/Academy

As it turned out, Linhardt's hypothesis that the academy would be far less boring if he switched to Professor Byleth's class was quite accurate. It would take him the better part of an hour to fully explain the benefits of her tutelage. Among their number was, of course, free reign to observe both the Crest of Flames and the Sword of the Creator, which were revealed to Lin with all the flourish of a birthday present. Claude had it in his mind that the professor favored him enough to hand the Relic over to him, which was ridiculous on multiple accounts. Linhardt would ordinarily not consider himself a prideful or jealous person (that was reserved for people like Ferdinand, Sylvain and Lorenz) but he would admit that he had enjoyed a level of sweet satisfaction when Byleth allowed him to hold her fated weapon before Claude.  
  
"You know," he babbled, admitted a touch too excited about the whole thing. "Catherine wouldn't let me hold Thunderbrand when I asked."  
  
"I can't imagine why," his professor quipped dryly, still thumbing idly through a book. "It isn't as though you are infamous for your rather demanding requests and flighty passions or anything."  
  
Twirling the sword clumsily around in his hands, Linhardt mourned the fact that he lacked the Crest needed to unfurl it. A sword that could turn into a whip but still held it's structural elegance. Fascinating. "Be that as it may, I still think she was rather stingy about the whole thing. I did tell her it was for my research. The woman cares nothing for the advancement of Crestology, I swear."  
  
The wind tussled the navy blue locks still hanging loosely against the woman's cheeks. It was a hot day. Scorching really for how late in the year it was becoming. Sweat coated his brow far too easily for his liking. Even the professor had gathered her hair up into a ponytail. He found he quite liked her hair like that. Made her face look different, younger perhaps. Still, Linhardt would miss days like this when the brutal winter months rolled around.  
  
"Nor do you last I checked. Is this not just another passing personal fancy?"  
  
"Professor," he scolded gently, peeling his moistened ponytail off his neck. This field, not too far from the campus of Garreg Mach but also distant enough to be quiet and peaceful, was the perfect spot for a nap under a tree. Petra frequented a forest near here for hunting and often stopped by to bid him good day, if he was awake. The Professor had found him here once by chance but that had been no bother to him. Even if she did see fit to rouse him from his slumber, she always did so gently. An unexpected characteristic given her rather gruff approach to most things. And whatever work she did entreat him to complete was at the very least catered to his unique specificities enough to keep him awake. Truly, while she had her insecurities on the matter, she was an excellent professor.  
  
And she knew him far too well to be unaware of what was a frivolous pursuit on his part and what he was serious about. At least, he hoped. "Is not the Sword of the Creator the epicenter of the mystery surrounding your Crest and your upbringing? I know you aren't biting at the bit for answers nearly as much as Claude is, but you must want at least some answers don't you?"  
  
It was not a question he honestly expected an answer to. At least not until she worked out what she would say. Linhardt had not known her for very long, but there were some habits of hers that he had taken note of. There were, by his approximation, two types of silences that she had. The first was dismissive. Unlike Professor Manuela and, well, anyone who was well versed in the intricacies of social etiquette, Byleth did not feel the need to insert her opinion where it had no place. It threw many of the self important noble types for a loop. Ignatz had a bit of a complex over it when Linhardt had first transferred into their house. Hilda, much too keen at reading people for his liking, had explained that it wasn't that she ignored him, more than she had nothing to contribute to his anxious rambles. Any direct questions, she answered with careful consideration for her word choice. That had been enough to console the shy painter. Others, like Raphael, had grown affectionately use to her attentive quiet moments. To an outside, it looked as though the boy had entire conversations with just himself.  
  
There was a second type of silence. As absurd as it sounded, Linhardt felt like he could _hear_ that type. Her intense concentration on her answer and just how to sew it into words so that it was unambiguously understood was almost palpable. Linhardt didn't mind. He often put quite a bit of thought into his questions so it didn't irk him to wait for a well considered answer. It gave him a chance to ruminate over things himself. Often things of import, though that was not the case today. Today he wondered if Marianne would flee from him so quickly if he brought her sweets. It worked with Lysithea. And Flayn always skirted around the idea of leaving long enough to shoot off a couple questions. So many mysterious crested women in this house. Truly he had made a good choice.  
  
"One of my first solo missions was a very simple request." Linhardt quirked a brow at his profession, caught off guard by the unexpected conversation starter. To be completely fair, he had come up with far stranger transitions, so he did try not to judge. Plopping down in the grass beside her, he waited for his professor to continue. "A middle aged woman in a small farm town had a daughter who had set off to find work as a mercenary. The girl used to write at least once a moon but hadn't in awhile. She asked if I would mind tracking her down and giving her a letter."  
  
Linhardt swallowed, predicting the ending to this tale was less than heartwarming. "Her daughter had taken a few jobs on the road, run out of money, and ended up in Enbarr. Worked the streets for awhile before stumbling across a John that did not treat her kindly. The only reason the coroner remembered her was due to the tattoo on her arm. She was cremated, ashes purged months prior." Byleth stared out into space emptily, voice detached in a way that made the rumors about the Ashen Demon plausible. By now, Lin knew it was but a defense mechanism. He leaned against her side, trying to offer her whatever meager comfort he could. It couldn't have been a fond memory.  
  
Byleth's mouth quirked up a bit, so much so that Linhardt could have sworn it was a smile until she continued. "I considered lying to her mother. Not about her passing, but about the circumstances. It would be bad enough to know she lost her daughter. What good would the horror of the method do? I ended up explaining the whole story in the end. I still am not sure it was the right choice. The woman grew ill and passed on by the time I next passed through. Heartbreak, they said. It felt like my fault."  
  
"It wasn't," Linhardt denied softly.  
  
"Guilt is not always logical," she reasoned. Tilting her head up, Byleth glanced up at the tree branches above them. The beams of sunlight breaking through the canopy danced across her cheeks and nose. "I have thought about that time a lot lately. Mostly because my own story seems so layered. Meeting Claude and the others...was it really just a coincidence? Had I not been in Remire that day would I still have found my way here eventually? The more I think on it, the more questions I have. At this point, part of me wonders if I would be better off not knowing. Which is worse...being ignorant or finding out that the truth is a reality you don't want to live with?"  
  
Linhardt didn't have a chance to even digest such an inquiry before they were interrupted by Petra, with Claude trailing along behind her, journeying back from the forest. The twigs caught in Claude's hair were interesting surely, but any thought he had of investigating their dalliance in the woods was overridden by Claude's intense and immediate annoyance with the sight of the Sword of the Creator in Linhardt's hands.  
  
"Hey there, Teach!" he called, too enthusiastic to be genuine. "I see you're renting out your Relic. I'm next ok? Technically I should have been first since I asked first, but I'll overlook your blatant favoritism just this once."  
  
Unwilling to play the future Duke's games, Byleth stood and held her hand out to Linhardt. Wordlessly, he passed her blade back to her, only slightly disappointed that nothing had come of his attempt at research. Answers he may not have found, but he did certainly have a new question to chew on. Sword sheathed at her side, Byleth side stepped Claude's question as if she had not heard it. "I'll see all three of you in class tomorrow."  
  
Petra wasted no time falling in step with their professor as she headed back to the monastery. Claude, looked a bit miffed, lingered in place. "Geez," he lamented, "Wonder what her deal is. I'd give it back. Eventually." Linhardt fought the urge to scoff aloud, his desire to be free of the burden of Claude's watchful eyes stronger than his normal lack of care about offending others. Emerald eyes narrowed critically at him as he stood and brushed the grass off his clothes. "And to let you of all people hold it before me. What's your secret, Lin? Anything interesting?"  
  
He did not spare his new house leader so much as a glance. "Well I don't have an ulterior motives for the sword, for starters."  
  
Linhardt could almost hear the smirk in the boy's voice when he replied, "Oh don't you though?"  
  
That evening during dinner, he felt the full force of Claude's retaliation upon him in the form of Sylvain slyly sidling up to him and Caspar with a cheeky grin. "Linhardt. My man. Didn't think you had it in you. Secret alone time with professor Byleth huh? Sounds exciting."  
  
Fixing the redhead with a deadpan stare, Linhardt drawled, "Yes. Extremely so. Almost nearly as exciting about you adding yet another of our female classmates to your laundry list of failed romances. Kindly attend to your own social obligations before you butt your nose into mine."  
  
It wasn't his finest rebuttal, but it was more than enough to send Sylvain grumbling off to join Felix and Ingrid at their table. Sighing in relief, Lin turned his attention to the pheasant roast the professor had requested be served today.  
  
In between bouts of stuffing his face grotesquely fully, Caspar managed to chuckle at him. "Geez, Lin. You're really taking to this school thing, huh?"  
  
"I would hasten a guess at what you are implying with that pitifully vague observation, but I really don't care." Linhardt could admit that he was a bit more short with his best friend than need be. He was just a tad frustrated. For someone who talked such a big game about trust and being close to the professor, Claude certainly didn't think twice about risking her reputation with such an annoying rumor. He knew it likely wouldn't carry far. Certainly not to Seteth's ears. Claude wasn't that sadistic. But still...the very concept rubbed him in all the wrong ways.  
  
"Don't need to bite my head off. All I'm saying is that it's cute."  
  
"What's cute?"

"You know." Caspar said as if Linhardt knew what he was thinking. Which he didn't. After a moment of getting only an unimpressed look in response, Caspar leaned across the table and whispered conspiratorially. " _You know_. Your crush on the professor."

Oh for the love of Sothis. Rolling his eyes, Linhardt sighed. "Don't be childish. It's not a crush, Caspar. I simply enjoy her company, that's all."

His best friend had the nerve to look unconvinced. "Uh huh. Well, what do you like about it?"

What did he like? Ridiculous. What wasn't there to like? Linhardt twirled his fork around in the purple berry sauce as he drawled, "Isn't it obvious? She's endlessly interesting. Like a walking mystery novel but much more palatable. She listens to my theories and doesn't seem to get bored...or at least hides it well which is just as good. She likes to fish and lets me nap and is _remarkably_ good at making necessary work enjoyable. And I suppose it would be remiss to overlook her beauty, though that's hardly....why are you looking at me like that?"

If Caspar was dubious before, now he looked almost impressed. Yet somehow also incredulous? It was not a look meant for a bonehead like Caspar. Truly, how on Earth could a man that got into a fist fight with a brick wall and lost when they were ten judge anyone, least of all him. The blue haired boy shook his head, standing up from that table as if to excuse himself from the burden of this conversation. "Wow, Linhardt. You've got it bad."

"Got _what_ bad? Caspar!" He glared at his friend as he left, mood souring even further.

He didn't return to that subject for awhile yet. It took weeks, several moons even. Change was difficult to acknowledge as it happened. Only when thinking retrospectively did most realize that anything had been different at all. Such was the case for Linhardt. Days passed. Their class grew ever closer to the answers that Byleth still did not seem entirely comfortable pursuing. The Golden Deer, once a patchwork bunch of loose threads, were transformed into a capable and admirable task force. Trusting one another to cover them on the battlefield translated to closer bonds back at the monastery. Marianne stopped running. Lysithea stopped lying. Flayn never got passed her discomfort but at the very least she heard him out more often. Claude, by the time the year was through, seemed to actually, legitimately trust the professor, though the rest of them were still a work in progress.

And Linhardt? Linhardt found himself interested in more things every day. The swing of Petra's lance, Dorothea's varying degrees of bravado and insecurity, Leonie's ever strange fascination with Jeralt Eisner. Mostly, he still found himself orbiting around the professor. In less typical ways, though. When she spent hours beating Felix into the ground of the training hall, Linhardt sat and pretended to read, eyes often following the fluid movement of her blade rather than the words on the pages in his lap. He asked the occasional question in class, rather than simply sleeping through the whole thing, and even opened himself up to the possibility of reason magic no matter how detestable he found the act of taking a life.

Caspar had gripped most about his change in his plans on Sundays. They were the professor's only real free day and while he could not spend every moment with her, he knew that if he napped under the tree in their usual place, she would come retrieve him so that they may spend at least a little time together. Tea, fishing, wandering idly around the academy grounds returning lost items to their owners. It was no secret that he was the most common face at her side other than Claude. At the time, Linhardt had thought nothing of it, aside from enjoying the pleasure of her attention.

It wasn't until the night of the ball, when he found himself foolishly spouting off some nonsense about returning to the Goddess Tower for another private rendezvous that he realized how cliche and yet also fitting that meeting was. The rush of excitement when he had seen her climbing the stairs really couldn't be mistaken for anything else. _Oh_ , he thought, as he watched the gentle moonlight paint the bemused smile on her face in a different light than normal. _I'm in love with her._

Putting a label to the emotion he had coveted so greedily in his chest for months was a bit of a relief, but it didn't truly change much. It definitely was not a topic he could reasonably research further until graduation at the absolute earliest. While the possibility of her reply to his amorous feelings was tantalizing, he didn't find himself all that anxious to investigate. For now, Linhardt had plenty of questions to answer and theories to test. Besides, it felt like they were so alluringly close to a huge breakthrough regarding Byleth's various mysteries. Everything else could wait just awhile longer.

Years later, Linhardt would recognize that he had never once given Byleth an answer to the question she asked him that day. Which was worse: being ignorant or finding out a truth you couldn't live with? At the time, his hesitation was due to a lack of experiences that might provide a satisfactory response. The memory of those few months after the ball had proven more than enough to give him some insight.

There truly were things that may have been better left unknown.

**Author's Note:**

> Love it? Hate it? Meh? Do let me know if you have the time. :) And feel free to find me on twitter or tumblr @kairiofknives.


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